


Seeing Stars

by argyle4eva



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 21:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argyle4eva/pseuds/argyle4eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/10038.html?thread=51889206#t51889206">this</a> kinkmeme prompt:"Asexual does not equal Frigid."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Stars

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I enjoy reading (and writing) S/J slash, I also think that Sherlock is "really" asexual, John is "really" straight, and all we're seeing in canon is an epic bromance. Sometimes, though, it's fun to explore the middle ground, as it were; hence this short kinkmeme fill, which I'm finally getting 'round to cleaning up and claiming.

John arched his back, hands fisting in the bedsheets, as every muscle in his body tried to contract at once in response to the simply amazing things Sherlock was doing with his long, strong, violinist's fingers wrapped around John's cock. When John finally came, it was like Ground Zero of an atomic blast, or a supernova, or something equally devastating and all-encompassing. Reality definitely ceased to exist for a moment, from John's POV.

Then reality was back, bringing with it a racing heartbeat, gasping breaths and twitching aftershocks. Seeking an anchor in the physical world, John opened his eyes . . . and found himself looking right into Sherlock's interested-but-dispassionate face, mere inches away from his own.

John jerked back a little – he couldn't help it – with a muttered, “Christ!” Then, as more oxygen and blood filtered back to his brain, sarcasm returned.

Sherlock, he knew, was not into sex, at all: in fact, Sherlock was, unsurprisingly, given the first conversation John had had with him on the topic at Angelo's, completely asexual. What _had_ been surprising was the first night Sherlock had climbed into bed with John and proceeded to jerk him off with terrifying efficiency, for the stated sake of (and this was a total laugh, coming from Sherlock) “maintaining sanity.”

Turned out Sherlock, asexual as he might be, had been more than able to deduce John's increasing attraction to his flatmate. Sherlock had also been pleased in an egocentric way, and, while not interested in any form of reciprocity, he was more than willing to help John relieve certain tensions. And how.

John was half convinced he was Sherlock's guinea pig: _A Study in Sexuality_ , and all the ways sexual pleasure turned ordinary humans' brains into mush (and/or provided motivation for crimes). While John was usually more than willing to put up with being an experimental subject if it meant getting brain-blasting orgasms from the object of his helpless attraction, occasionally the notion rankled.

“I hope,” John wheezed, attempting to sound ironic, “my expression just now was ridiculous enough to be entertaining.”

“On the contrary,” Sherlock said, baritone voice low and perfectly serious, “it was beautiful.”

John blinked, and would have suspected mockery but for Sherlock's earnest expression – and the long, warm fingers that still cupped John's slippery, softening cock with something resembling affection.

Frowning, John began, “But. But you don't . . .”

Sherlock sat back and cut him off with a slow, warm smile that made John's heart do unexpected backflips. “Just because I don't understand it,” Sherlock said, “doesn't mean I can't appreciate it.”

“Like stars.”

“Exactly,” Sherlock said, giving him a last, gentle squeeze before reaching for a flannel. “Only better. _You_ , I can touch.”


End file.
